


If You're Comfortable

by Quietnerdgasm



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2019-10-31 13:26:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17850314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quietnerdgasm/pseuds/Quietnerdgasm
Summary: Architecture student Annabeth takes a photography class to practice finding the beauty in things. When her final project requires a human subject she begrudgingly reaches out to an acquaintance.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Had an idea that I had to get out. May add on to make it 'E' if inspiration strikes.

When Annabeth left her apartment she made sure her head was held high and her coffee was balanced only semi-precariously as she locked her door and began her walk to campus. The first day of her last year of college was going to be a warm one if the temperature at this early hour was any indication. With luck the humidity would be minimal, but she had hair ties ready for the eventuality that her hair would need restraints at some point. As the building of campus began to grow larger she sipped her coffee and steeled herself for the upcoming day. She was passively excited for most of her classes, though with only two semesters remaining of her master’s program the novelty of first days had been erased by the familiarity of professors and classmates. However, there was a small wrinkle in her carefully planned track, and the only reason she was approaching campus at the earliest possible hour. 

Her architecture program was rigorous, and the strain and stress left Annabeth drained and exhilarated most days; if she did not expend herself in some way the day usually seemed some level of underwhelming. Architecture was competitive though, and while some argue ‘best’ was arbitrary she disagreed quite readily. She was here to be top of the class to practice having professional rivals and detractors. To that end, when a professor flippantly mentioned that her geometry and lines were flawless, “she just did not have that artistic flair” Annabeth was fuming. She had spent the first week of summer combing her designs and lectures, and about six days in and five whiskeys down she saw what they meant. Her math, her historical basis and utility was always spot on, but compared to other (inferior) designs seldom were staggeringly beautiful or ‘awe-inspiring’ to quote her advisor. 

With the problem identified, Annabeth spent every available minute not at her internship on an online art history class, at museums, re-drafting old plans and after more than a bit of doubt signed up for a photography class at Piper’s suggestion. Piper, who spent all summer trying to coax her to the lake or brunch or out for drinks. While she did join a handful of times and even had a rather sneaky and successful one night stand on a girl’s night out, her closest friend continued to use words like “boring” and “neglectful” in many of the sparsely answered text messages she sent. Annabeth’s internship was resolved for the semester though, and had reassured her very needy and wonderful friend that she would be more present. If academia was not otherwise pressing. 

The first thing Annabeth noticed when she walked into the classroom in the art building she had never been in before was how colorful and above all else YOUNG her classmates were about to be. Bright hair and swirling tattoos were everywhere, and she is pretty sure she TA-ed two of them last semester. Finding a spot at the periphery of the class, she sat down and re-dedicated herself to dissecting beauty and being able to capture it. 

Once she was able to swallow her initial judgements she found the class, over time, to be helpful. Halfway through semester found her well-versed in all the hours of sunlight, a master of aperture, and significantly improving her dark room technique. She was more or less surprised at how well it complimented her other coursework, and she was pleased with her shifting view of her passion. She was much less pleased when she found out part of her final portfolio was going to have to involve shots of live subjects. 

“I do not need to take pictures of people to understand beauty. Nature is suiting me just fine! Trees and flowers and the shoreline have been perfectly suitable. I do not need someone else that probably can’t follow directions to mess up my portfolio.” Annabeth found herself more animated with a wine glass in her hand, curled on Piper’s couch while her friend searched Netflix for something they would pretend to watch. 

“Oh quit your bitching. It will be good for you. Besides, you’re bossy enough, you'll have no problem directing some poor schmuck.”

“Charming, McLean. But honestly, there is supposed to be a cohesive theme. Most of my stuff to this point has been water and lighting based, and now what, I’m supposed to find someone who can take direction and perfectly juxtapose literal liquid and light and bring them together? Think of the lines! I just can’t see it in my head.”

Piper shrugged, and when she turned she had a gleam in her eyes that immediately had Annabeth assuming that she would not like the next words out of her mouth. “You can’t see it in your head because you haven’t seen anyone other than yourself naked in some time. Don’t get me wrong, I would kill for your definition, but you need to see it on the other side of the lens. There’s a blond that comes into the coffee shop and the curve of that ass… if you want to see art, come study with me tomorrow afternoon. Some people are actual things of beauty. You need to do some looking.”

A heavy sigh and a long drink of wine was going to start and finish her response, but Annabeth tersely reminded herself why she was taking this damnable class in the first place. “Let me think about it. Maybe if I try thinking of how the lines go together it will be easier to find a subject that matches that.” Casting a sidelong look at Piper as she went to find more wine, she added “and it might be you if I can’t find a better body.” A laugh followed her into the kitchen as Piper insisted that it would be quite impossible to do so. 

Hours later Annabeth was stretched on the other half of Piper’s bed wine drunk and warm. Piper slipped immediately to sleep, leaving Annabeth to her fuzzy thoughts. As she was prone to do, her mind wandered back to her projects and she puzzled over her pending photography final and tried to picture a person amid the backdrop she had already envisioned. She was wildly interested in a golden or blue hour shoot. The far edge of the lake would do, isolated from bystanders who might ruin her background. But the curving lines of the lake needed contrast, and she would need long straight lines, lending itself to a model of male persuasion. 

Unbidden her mind flashed to her last close encounter with a man, and in the dark she felt the wine color her cheeks. Her summer one night stand had been funny and oddly shy but confident at the bar, but at his apartment had been eager to please her and had a body that could match her pace and did wonderful things to her for a prolonged period of time. What had his name been? She had it on a post it that he had scrawled on as she left the next morning. How long ago had that been, two months, maybe three? Her lower abdomen twinged, reminding her it had been at least that. Her cabernet soaked brain reminded her she was next to her best friend. Annabeth shivered as she remembered his groaning sigh in her ear, his arms curling around her as she had ground down on him before he lifted them both off the bed and pressed her to the wall with a pounding rhythm that had her clawing at his skin and muting her curses against his tongue. Objectively, he had been an excellent lay. 

It may have been the alcohol advocating, but Annabeth could argue that he would be an excellent subject with his broad shoulders and lines tracing his abs and outlining his hips. His dark hair would build decent contrast against a bleeding sun. And he took direction quite well. She could attest to that fully and emphatically. Shaking her head, she resolved to deal with this plan and her sudden libido tomorrow, preferably much further from Piper. 

The next day found Annabeth tearing through every clutch she owned, purses littering the floor of her bedroom and she hunted for that blue post it note. Why didn’t she put that damn number in her phone? He was a good resource and she might have let it slip because she was busy? Unacceptable. She should have been able to multitask better than that over summer. Plan ahead better. The spiral into self-admonishment was just gaining traction when an upended clutch released a receipt, a pristine tube of chapstick and a smattering of green bills with a flash of blue flitting to the ground. Annabeth dove after it, a chuckle of amazement echoing in the room as she stared at it. Her mind wandered, and she realized she did not know how to convince a one night stand from months ago to help a school project. There were so many unknown variables. Too many possibilities for mishaps. Sitting on her bed she stared at the number and the messy name above it. Percy. Taking a deep breath, she opened a new message and began to type.

 

**************************************************************************************

 

An uncomfortable number of days later found Annabeth leaning against her car, eyes darting from her watch to the sun to the parking lot entrance and back again. Golden hour would be starting shortly, and they would still have a five minute walk to get to the site. Add setup time and a few minutes of awkward direction that would be unlikely to yield any decent shots and Annabeth was anxious. She should have told him an earlier time. What if he was late, or worse stood her up? He seemed pleased to get her text, but interpreting electronic communication is tricky at best. Right as she reached for her phone a blue Mustang pulled in, and she exhaled fully as she recognized the man driving. 

The body that unfolded from the car was familiar and sinful, and immediately Annabeth was jolted from calculating to obscene. She had sent him suggestions and his color palette was impeccable. Her eyes dragged from black denim thighs to a blue shirt that stretched casually up his arms and across his chest, and when her eyes met his they were impossibly green and letting her know that he was acutely aware of her perusal. 

A small smirk electrified her blood as he greeted her “I certainly do not believe I drove out here to be taken advantage of.” 

“Of course not, just lightly objectified.” She hoped her tone was light and playful, but she was too focused on not squirming under his gaze. She forgot that she was a good 3 or 4 inches shorter and therefore perfectly eye level with his mouth. She looked at the lake before she could remember the details of what it was capable of. “Shall we?”

“Too bad.” he droned, the smirk never moving. “Please, lead the way.”

Annabeth took off towards the trail, filling the air with small talk to distract herself. Percy. College swim team. Senior. Marine biology major. Still funny. Definitely gently flirting with her. As they arrived at her site she explained what she was going for in broad strokes, and he nodded and allowed her to arrange herself pointing west as he kicked off his shoes and rolled his jeans up his calf. The orange and yellows of the impending sunset dangled just above the distant tree line when he entered the water to his ankles. Slowly they sunk into a grove, Percy slowly adjusting under Annabeth’s suggestions while she circled and clicked, the shutter snapping again and again. None were quite what she was looking for though, and she chewed her lip as she deliberated the phrasing of her next line. 

When Percy broke the silence he was closer than he had been before, and ten feet was not enough distance for Annabeth to say what she wanted to say. “What you thinking over there? I won’t be offended if you say I’m not pretty enough. Well, it would sting, but I’d get over it.” 

“What? Oh, no, trust me you’re working just fine. I just, uh, need more lines. The curves in the waves, the horizon. I need more lines.” He looked confused, which was obvious considering that was a garbage explanation. Annabeth huffed and forced her gaze to his face. “I need you to take your shirt off. If you’re comfortable with that.”

Heat flooded the bridge of her face and pooled in her cheeks, and for a beat he did not react at all. Until he threw his head back and laughed. “Oh wow!” Green eyes leveled her with that smirk again. “Annabeth, if you wanted a repeat of our last meeting you could have just texted me that.”

“That is NOT how I meant it. When I texted. This is about my final! I just need your” she sputtered off when he quirked an eyebrow at her “ABS. They have the lines I need. Really. And only if you want to.” Her sentence had not finished when he shirt was over his head and piled on his shoes. 

He spread his arms and walked backward to the lake. “If you say so. Come on, for the picture’s sake.” Over the next five minutes Annabeth furiously snapped frame after frame of Percy flirting with the water. Squatting to let his hands trace the surface. Cupping it in his hands before it spilled down his elbows. Bending to collect it and send it splashing through his hair and dripping down his back, his chest. Annabeth was hardly giving instruction at all when his hands started pulling at the button of his pants, and she snapped the picture before freezing. “What are you doing?”

Percy let the smirk morph into a whole smile as the teeth of his zipper separated conspicuously. “You wanted more lines, and I want more water. But only if you’re comfortable.” His fly was open, but his hands were paused on his hips. Annabeth also suddenly needed more water as well. When she responded her voice sounded oddly scratchy.

“I’m okay with it if you are.” His smile seemed more victorious than helpful, and she tried taking deep breaths as black boxer briefs and long thigh emerged from the denim. Without a word from her Percy immediately waded waist high. The next pictures were instinct, Annabeth calling instructions from the shore and Percy making them devastating. They had maybe ten more minutes before the hour receded from golden to blue when Percy came back to shore and reclined at the sands edge. His arms were dusted in yellow sand while his hips settled just below the water’s surface, the image distorted by the ripples of the waves. Annabeth was kneeling in the sand focusing on capturing the beading rivulets on his chest when she noticed his left hand curl ever so slightly into his lap. She had taken two more pictures before realizing he was ever so subtly cupping what she was pretty sure was his dick. 

The metallic click of the shutter startled them both, and he whipped his head to look at her, wide eyed and horrified as she stared directly at his hand. “Annabeth, in the least creepy way I can muster, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to, it just happened. I was thinking about the summer and I'm practically naked and you're telling me what to do again which is a thing for me and I was on autopilot and I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I am so incredibly sorry.”

Flickering her gaze from his hand to his face, the decision was made as the words entered the air. “I’m okay with it if you are.” She watches the moment he realizes how quietly and ragingly wanton she is at the present, and his eyes dart to her lips as her tongue wets them. She sees his hand involuntarily squeeze in his lap. Annabeth slowly brings the camera back up and finishes “Keep going. But only if you’re comfortable.”

His groan is achingly familiar.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to switch to an 'E' after all. Thank you for the encouragement to get the second chapter out.

Annabeth is caught looking when Percy throws his head back and groans, so she definitely misses the perfect frame of his devastating eye contact as he fully grips himself. She blames the sudden raging desire burning her logic away. Kneeling in the sand on an unseasonably warm November day as it retreats to night while being unreasonably aroused is not exactly how she imagined her final project to be going, but she has also never photographed a man after vaguely instructing him to masturbate. Which is actively happening. 

His hand disappears below the elastic band of his underwear, and Annabeth has to hold back a groan. The images would do little for a camera roll but are doing so much for her, and she takes the picture anyway. His voice is strained - colored with both concern and need. “These aren’t going to end up in a gallery somewhere, right?” 

“Not if you’re a good boy.” The answer is in the air before she can weed out the pervert in it, so she shakes her head even as his soft moan finds her ears. “Of course not, no. But I am certainly enjoying the process.” She hesitated, but figured she was too far gone. “Can you show me?”

A light pant ruins the playfulness of his response. “You’re welcome to come closer and investigate yourself.” Despite his words his briefs are flipped down just enough to release his cock, which bounces from the water to jut from the surface. His penis is swollen, insistent, but he lightly runs a hand down it without settling into a rhythm. Without giving in yet. 

“Why do I need to come closer? You seem to have the situation perfectly in hand.” Pleasure chokes his laugh, and he fixes her with a look that lets her know if he has his way there will be some quid pro quo in her future. 

“Well then, Miss Chase,” he drawls as he sets a pace that has his hips snapping and her imagination running far from her camera and into a gutter, “feel free to take notes. I’ll test you on this material later.”

Annabeth did not often have to deal with derailment. She spent the next few minutes unabashedly watching, and took a few pictures here and there, but mostly she lost herself in a man sending himself to orgasm and desperately wishing she was more involved. Her murmurs of encouragement were well received though. Head thrown carelessly back, Percy took long quick strokes, rippling the water as he hissed and jerked his hips. Blue hues painted the sky gorgeous, but the details of him would never stand out unless she opened the aperture. She didn’t recognize her own voice. “Slow down Percy. Tease yourself. Drag it out.”

His explicative filled the air and his hips canted uncontrolled upwards but he complied, fingers twisting at the tip before sliding down beneath the surface. In a practiced move Annabeth adjusted her settings and lost herself in the focus of finding the art in her setting, and Percy made it spectacularly easy. His face was wildly expressive, his pace was beautiful to the camera and clearly torture to himself, and as she called out direction he seemed both turned on and mindful of his position towards her. Annabeth found herself crouching in the water, sliding ever so slightly deeper to get the perfect angle when there it is. 

The sun sits so low that it no longer reflects off the lake, and blue overtakes the borders of the frame, encroaching on the subject. He is tan but pale in comparison to the silhouettes of dark trees and distant water. The smooth line of his stretched and exposed neck meld in to the relaxed recline of his torso, where rigid lines disappear temptingly below the lake, its surface only disturbed by the back of a hand, flecked with droplets and hiding the explicit nature of his activity. He is both intensely focused and impossibly serene. 

Annabeth has never been so turned on in her entire life. 

The shutter snaps. 

“Wait. Stop.”

She did not need a picture of that look. She would remember it every time she closed her eyes at this point. His chest heaving as he reclined in the sand with his hand around his cock and looking very much like he would like to both maim her and fuck her. Instinct draws her closer to him, to the shore. Narrowed green eyes fix again on his hand, and she watches it squeeze but not slide. 

“Why. The Fuck. Now?”

She hears the whine and burn in his voice. He is close enough that she can taste it.

“Because if you’re going to cum in my presence today it is going to be MY doing, not you masturbating while I watch.” Annabeth let her gaze roll over him again, and couldn’t help finishing her thoughts aloud. “Though I admit it is a hell of a show.”

Percy is biting the inside of his lip so hard Annabeth is mildly concerned he will soon bleed, but says nothing as she watches his interior battle play out is sighs, scowls, and what sounds suspiciously like a growl. She is fighting the impulse to find her own friction when he releases himself, his right hand fisting the sand next to him. She is still watching his glans bob against the waves when he submits “So what now?”

Gently, so as to not betray her eagerness, she slides the lens cap into place and hopes he doesn’t notice the faint trembling to her fingers. Can’t hear the singing in her blood. “Now. You follow me to my place. Where I show you my appreciation for your participation.” She raised to her full height over him smoother than she thought her knees would allow. “And we take turns fucking each other's brains out."

Faster than should be possible he is standing, dick hidden but straining as he stands in front of her dripping and covered in sand. A shiver dances down her spine at the hunger in his eyes. 

"Let's go then."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick bit of rising action to set up the last chapter. Thanks again folks for going down this little road with me.

By the time her camera is safely tucked away Percy has managed to slide his jeans over wet boxer briefs and is frantically shoving sandy feet into socks and shoes. They say exactly nothing as they power walk back up the trail, and Annabeth is sure that his eyes on her back have the capability to burn her alive from the inside. 

The parking lot is a blessed sight, and she gets to her car door and has time to open it and turn around before he is on her, pressing her against the side of her car as his mouth pulls at her lower lip, hands pulling her hips closer to a still very obvious erection. She is breathless and just starting to curl her fingers into his shirt when he pulls away suddenly and takes a step back, expression searching her face even as his fist clenches at his side. In a moment Annabeth knows that he would fuck her on her car right now if she told him to. She is almost inclined to let him. Her mouth saves her as she blurts her crossroads in his direction and slides into the driver’s seat and her engine comes to life. She throws it in reverse moments later.

In what is both the longest and vaguest drive of her life, Annabeth appears at home after a very stern and ineffectual lecture on controlling oneself, and is thrilled to hear the heavy footfalls of Percy taking the steps two at a time behind her. The locked door allows him to catch up, and after the lock is disengaged she pauses. He is close enough that she feels his body heat, but is resolutely not touching her. The part in her that aches to tease and bait him hesitates, then rocks backwards just enough to brush her ass over his crotch to soak in his obvious reaction before proceeding inside. 

Seeing the inside of her apartment with a man hot on her heels gives Annabeth just enough clarity to assess the situation. Despite being ready to go this instant, he was definitely submerged in a lake 15 minutes ago, and he had to be uncomfortable as hell. Additionally, if she expected to have any aspect of self-control, she needed a few minutes alone. “We can throw your pants in the wash real quick if you want to shower.”

His face implied that was possibly the last thing he wanted to do. His mouth said “Sure” as he followed her down the short hallway to the bathroom before stepping in alone and leaving the door open. 

With his back to her he whipped his shirt over his head. It is a practiced move, both efficient and graceful the article balls rapidly into his hand before being deposited on her sink. She traces the muscles in his back with her eyes, marking and tracing the column along the groove of his spine before disappearing beneath the lip of his jeans. His hands pause at the band of his pants, fingers sinking under the elastic as he turns half over his shoulder. 

“Will you be joining me?”

She knows exactly what this still looks like from 20, 60, and 120 degree angles from here. Tan, lean, confident and dangerously distracting. At 20 degrees is the suggestion of a muscular torso, a hint of things to come. At 60 degrees the light will wreak havoc over his shoulder blades, with an overt statement of his trim waistline and strong facial features. In exactly 120 degrees the indirect lighting will paint the muscles of his chest and abdomen sinister, and the careless splay of his arms and mindless trailing of dark hair into his jeans could ruin a good heart. 

“No. I’d best stay here, in the interest of staying clean. But the view is pretty good.” 

His smirk could cut the seam of her jeans open. “If you think so, you should see it up close.” His forearms ripple as they push the damp pants and wet boxers off his hips, and he is still making eye contact when he kicks out of them and steps naked into the running shower. Annabeth would be a liar if she said she didn’t note that he was still hard. Didn’t have to look away before she did join him in under the steam and spray to defile her shower. 

She grabs his clothes before making her hasty retreat, closing the door as she fled. They are in the washer before she can form a coherent thought that doesn’t involve him being naked in her shower 20 feet away, and she adds her lake soaked jeans to the wash and pads back to her room and ignoring the temptation to press the bathroom door open again. She slides on a pair of shorts and surveys her room for a distraction when her eyes land on her camera. Her face warms again with the realization of what is on it. What she has done. What she is about to do. Annabeth takes exactly one step towards her desk when the thrumming sound of running water ceases. In a moment the camera is stashed in a cabinet, her duvet is straightened, and she fishes a few errant condoms from the back of her underwear drawer to hidden easily on her night stand. 

“That shower certainly didn’t take long.” She mumbles to herself, and her eyes cast about the room to see if anything else needs tidying before they halt on his form filling her doorway. 

“Well you certainly couldn’t expect me to stay there long by myself when you were out here.” Percy standing there, towel around his hips, hair dripping wet and broad shoulders a breath away from leaning against the door frame. It is the most stereotypical thing she could fathom. She was mildly surprised by how much it was working for her. She was grateful for the bed between them, even if the anticipation was starting to become maddening.

“I suppose there is validity to that.” Annabeth let the silence stretch and fill the space between them, but Percy never flinched, never changed the intense but calm look around his eyes. Letting her dictate the when and how of the next steps. It thrilled Annabeth immensely. 

“Feel free to get comfortable on the bed. And lose the towel.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly folks, I have never finished anything ever. Thank you for all the support, it means everything.

_“Feel free to get comfortable on the bed. And lose the towel.”_

“You sure? Your bed will get a little wet’.”

“Yes, well that is what I’m counting on.” Despite him setting up the comment he begins to redden his cheeks and it is beautiful to behold. This powerful, attractive man is about to be naked in her bed and she can make him blush while fully clothed across the room. Her skin buzzes with the need to press him beneath her.

His cheeks still have the shadow of her forwardness on them when he unceremoniously drops his towel and reclines on her pillows without breaking eye contact with her. When he began to once again stroke himself however, Annabeth refused to ignore the unrestricted view and drinks in the sight of him stretched out in front of her for a few moments.

“Much as I am enjoying this, that is quite enough.” His hand flies behind his head and his face is hopeful as she stalks to the side of the bed and sits next to him. Green eyes light up and he looks up at her as though he thinks she might eat him alive and is simultaneously terrified and excited by the prospect. It's flattering. She leans over to kiss him briefly, which makes her hand curling around his cock a surprise.

A deep moan fills the room and Annabeth would be concerned about her open window if he wasn’t so responsive, muscles tensing under skin as he tries desperately not to move. His hands are still buried under the pillow beneath his head. His jaw clenches repeatedly. His knees shift, then hit the bed again. Her chuckle escapes quietly.

“You can move you know.” His resulting sigh grows in volume at the end as he allows himself to relax, but he’d shown his cards and Annabeth was inclined to run with it. “Except your hands. Keep them where they are for now.”

She let her hand replicate his twisting motion over his tip, and his hips tilted away from her as a curse flitted through his lips when she quickened her pace to match the one he’d set on the beach. His eyes break from her hand to her face with his eyes slightly wide and mouth open in a pant. “How is this happening? How are you doing this to me right now?”

Flattery would get him everywhere. “I had plenty of time to study earlier at your suggestion, thank you. Though this next part is why I told you to take a shower.” His sharp intake of air was his only chance to respond before her mouth descended to meet her hand.

Annabeth always hated the cliche analogies that described erect penises, but silk over steel immediately came to mind as he settled against her tongue, all soft skin and not-so-quiet moans. Her hands pressed his into his hips, a silent reminder as he painted her ceiling with curses while she learned the weight and taste of him.

Teasing this man was a pleasure, and Annabeth deployed every trick she knew. Her nails raked gently across his chest and stomach, her tongue traced the shape of the head of his penis, her hands traced from one spot to the next while she occasionally dipped, taking all of him in to his chagrin and delight.

Beneath her ministrations was a man in utter turmoil and so happy to be there. Whatever god he prayed to was getting an earful tonight as he twisted and squirmed to the timing of her tongue. This was a fantastic angle to view the muscles of his stomach pull taut against his hips, or the quivering of his shoulders while his hands stayed planted behind his head. Within minutes he was breathing hard and gyrating in time with her, mumbling compliments or curses or nonsense. Percy, as it turns out, was as wildly receptive as Annabeth anticipated. Until he wasn’t.

Being physically thrown about was not something Annabeth was used to, but Percy managed to disengage from her, shift, get a grip on her and fling her onto her back on her own bed before she was of a mind to react. She wasn’t sure if she was irritated, impressed or aroused. “I’m sorry but I’m not going to last against a talent like that. So now it’s my turn.” The words were said in a rush as her running shorts and underwear were pulled to her ankles, and Annabeth had about as much time to prepare before her knees were open and Percy Jackson’s mouth became of utmost importance.

Flashbacks of their first night flickered as his tongue slid against her, hot and wet and tortuously slow. Her finger wound through his hair but experience had already taught her that it would be of no use; Percy Jackson would do what he was going to do and she was going to tug and grind and hope her neighbors couldn’t hear her asking for relief in a way that sounded like begging. She held out as long as she could, but about the time there were two fingers twisting into her while that clever tongue danced around her clit she used the right combination of words and he pulled away, rolling a condom on with a smug look over his slick mouth. The pause gave her a moment to assess her state, and it wasn’t promising. Her shirt ended up around her neck, her bra cups flipped down and to the side and her shorts and underwear coiled around her left ankle. In record time she shucked all of the offending garments onto the floor as Percy shifted himself closer to her once more drawing her attention.

The noise of her inner monologue hushed as she looked him over, isolated from the sensation of him adjusting her body closer to his. The last remnants of dusk hung over his shoulders through the window, and she could not stop looking at the wreckage of his hair as dark strands coil across his forehead while others jut sharply upward to remind her of her own wildness. Even the shape of his eyes is distracting, and Annabeth is trying to estimate the angle of the arch when he presses into her and intelligible thoughts become significantly less important.

His hips are against hers and his abs are under her nails and fuck it feels good and she tells him so. She adjusts to him with exhales and profanities, and he tests the full depth of his stroke against her with wide eyes and steady arms. Those long eyelashes of his flutter against his cheeks as he closes his eyes and cranes his head back with a sigh, reveling in the slow slide of his movements. Annabeth on the other hand is unsure if she is more frustrated by his pace or the fact that she isn’t in control of it, and as the stretch turns into pleasure and then craving she snaps at him. “I said fucking each other’s brains out, not boring each other to sleep.”

He laughs but opens his eyes. “Just thought you’d want a few practice laps. But if you think you can take it...” One of her legs is pulled onto his shoulder, and she has a moment to appreciate the contrast of pale calf pushed against his darker chest when the tempo goes from lazy to grueling and there is no longer time for contemplation. The space between them heats immeasurably with the friction of their proximity and Annabeth leans into the rhythm he sets and gives as good as she gets.

Their moans and sighs and sounds fill the spaces left between the shifting of the mattress and the occasional knock of her headboard on the wall. He smells like salt and her soap and as good as he looks with a sheen of sweat glistening over a torso that heaves and ripples with the casual effort of fucking her, he would probably look better on his back. The other part of her admits this is good, but she isn’t ready to concede orgasm to him quite yet, and certainly not with him thinking he did all the work.

“Alright, you had your fun, my turn now.” Her voice sounds different when her own panting underwrites it, but Percy immediately nods and she doesn’t wait for him to arrange himself but uses her legs to shove him sideways. He is laying across the width of the bed and barely has time to move so his calves dangle off the side when she brackets his hips with her knees and sinks onto him. That groan is all her pride wanted, and she loses herself in the joy of feeling her body move over his.

His hands roam as she works, and they circle from her thighs up her back to her breasts and back again. Percy’s wandering intentionally missed her clit though, and his meandering touches never accelerated from teasing into the pleasure he effortlessly doled out before, and his smirks and soft chuckles told her he knew it. Even when Annabeth planted a hand on his chest for better leverage and could feel his sharp inhale with each pitch and grind, she could not bait him to do more which was equally frustrating and arousing. And then Annabeth had a realization, and smiled victoriously as she slid her other hand in between them.

“Never trust a man to do something when a woman knows better anyway.” She cried out as her fingers contacted her slickened clit and her eyes slid shut in rapture, and Percy dug his fingers into her thighs as quiet curses reached her.

“Jesus Christ you are fucking unreal Annabeth Chase.” She opened her eyes and found him watching her almost reverently, and she smiled in acknowledgement before redoubling her efforts to fuck him into her mattress.

Immediately the atmosphere changed, and it was painfully clear neither was going to last much longer. Annabeth could feel herself unraveling, and struggled to maintain the timing of both her fingers and her hips as her looming climax threatened to bubble over. For his part, Percy seemed to be barely able to contain himself long enough to match her, and Annabeth moaned every time she came down as his hips surged up deep and hard. Suddenly his fingers flew from digging into her thighs to grabbing her ass as he gasped “Annabeth, fuck, I’m going to cum.”

The moonlight coming through the window clings to every line on his body as he looks at her with those eyes and says those words and Annabeth wishes she had her camera out because she wants this moment printed in ink forever. She manages to whisper “Fuck, Percy.” and then everything is white noise as her orgasm swells and crashes and her fingers are still on her clit while her hips are grinding over his and he is pounding up into her with a grip that should hurt and there is screaming but it’s so far away it doesn’t matter and she’s never heard “shit” so many times in a row following someone saying her name and that scream is her and

She takes a deep breath and her mind clears, the pressure on her clitoris suddenly too much as the aftershocks sweep through her. Her hand lands on muscles still rolling slightly as Percy rocks them both down from their high. His short strokes still feel like too much. The haze recedes enough for Annabeth to feel the sweat sliding down her back, the fatigue of muscles that pushed hard and fast, the protest of thighs apart for too long. Her curls hang wild around her and stick to her shoulders, her neck. She isn't sure when her hair came down. She rolls and falls onto her back next to him on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as her senses slowly return. Next to her Percy was similarly silent as his breathing normalized, and she heard his deep inhale before he spoke.

“Holy fuck.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Yeah that was pretty good.” Her voice was ever so slightly hoarse when she responded, but couldn’t find it in her to be perturbed or embarrassed by it.

She couldn’t see him, but his shit-eating grin was audible. “I would have never thought you asked for anything in your life, but you really were begging me to fuck you.”

“We all make mistakes. You’re not that great as a top.”

“My body is better than yours.” Annabeth snapped her head in his direction, outrage well prepared until she caught sight of his teasing grin. His laugh fills her whole apartment. “There, now we’re both liars.”

She can feel her ears burning, but he called her bluff and she’d let him have that win. “Alright, it wasn’t bad. I’ll admit I like the thrill of under-me-you though.”

His chuckle is deep and warm, and she doesn’t flinch when he moves into the bathroom to clean up, or hears him pad to her kitchen and put his clothes in the dryer. She’s still naked and contemplative when he comes back, and doesn’t resist when he adjusts her to lie lengthwise in bed. It surprised her that he climbed onto the other side of the bed, but he pulled her to him and threw the duvet over them both and Annabeth decides she wouldn’t mind falling asleep like this. Just this once. His mouth is next to her ear, and the smell of her on him makes her shiver as he says “Don’t worry, e.e cummings, I quite like the thrill of it too.”

And her small, guarded heart thrums just a little too hard in her ribs.

*************************************************************************************

The next morning she isn’t surprised or even disappointed when she is alone, but her face cracks in a smile at the note on her nightstand.

___Gotta go swim. I won’t be mad if you don’t wait three months to text again._ _ _

Her head says to wait at least a few days. The twinge in her gut dares her to make it to tomorrow.


End file.
